


Verbos

by aluinihi



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: 16/17yo Ed, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Kinda, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 18:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aluinihi/pseuds/aluinihi
Summary: “I said,” the boy mutters, “that you’re a fucking bad dream.”Over and over again, Roy wonders — because what else can he do? When it comes to Edward Elric, things are unpredictable: a sequence of inconsistencies that never fail to be very logical — if there is anything Roy can do tonot be bad, anything that is notthat. But the only two forms of comfort Ed seems to want from him are the ones that Roy doesn’t really want to provide.





	Verbos

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you are having a nice day/evening!
> 
> I wrote this just because I was tired of writing Ed's POV and I need to write Angst to function. No getting together here, just... It's up to you to say if it's pre-relationship or something.
> 
> The song Ed is singing is [I'm a Fool to Want You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qA4BXkF8Dfo) and I would recommend listening to Billie Holiday's version.
> 
> English is not my native language, so please warn me of mistakes!

Some say words are meaningless, and Roy would be the first one to beg to differ. Being himself passionate about the art of communication — speaking and listening, writing and reading, exposing and understanding — gave him special insight on the topic of _words_ , and more particularly their usage. No word, even a word in and of itself, can lack meaning; it would be naive to believe words can be in any form _neutral_ and devoid of emotional connotations to all of those taking part in a dialogue. Context or absence of it can transfer even more content to those connotations, and so does our subconscious — words will awe, sadden, cheer or utterly destroy a human being, just with their sequential phonemes.

And Roy is proud to announce he has mastered them before the age of thirty: he can use those small units of sound with grace, bending them as he pleases to make them fit his wishes. He knows the words that will get him a warm body to sleep next to, and the words to make it not stay for long. The words to get on the good graces of his superiors, and the words to reassure his subordinates. The words to haul someone out of a pit, and the words to push them further down. He knows the words to celebrate the birth of a child, and the words to say when Death stands by his side.

At least, he thought he did.

It’s almost midnight and Edward Elric, the infamous Fullmetal Alchemist, stands in the middle of Roy’s office — _stands_ no, _sways_ , unsure and unsteady, to a beat that probably exists only in his head. The lights are off, but those from the outside paint the scene with a yellowish glow, and make the boy’s messy hair look like wildfire. His eyes are closed and his lips move slightly, but Roy can barely hear the whispers; though he wonders about them, what could possibly cause Ed to _whisper_ instead of _scream?_ He looks distressed, _depressed_ maybe, his shoulder slumped and he clutches something tightly to his chest.

What words could he say now? All of his knowledge vanished. Just _poof_ , Edward Elric, and it’s all gone.

Roy can see his keys — the only reason he’s here instead of on a warm bed after a date that could have ended better — right there, on his desk. But on his way is the most peculiar individual Roy has ever had the pleasure to meet, and he shows no signs of even acknowledging Roy’s presence by the door. He’s afraid to get closer, to disrupt the boy’s dancing peace or, _worse_ , to provoke what could be the greatest temper tantrum in Amestrian history.

“Fullmetal?”

Edward halts — not in the usual startled, _ready-to-fight_ way, just a subtle cease of movements. He blinks slowly, raising his head to properly look at Roy. His eyes are hazy and Roy can tell it takes him a while to focus, because when he does his face contorts in a pained expression that really doesn’t belong there. There is no verbal answer, but Roy knows even though words come with meanings always, meanings can come without words. And the tired sigh holds meaning enough.

So does the half-empty bottle he clings to.

_Shit._

Roy had noticed, yes, that his emergency alcohol went missing from the drawer from time to time. It was not very often, and that brand of whiskey is too cheap for him to care, so he whenever it happens he just shrugs and tells himself somebody probably needs it more. However, things click now; as if Roy had finally found the missing gear of an engine, and everything is running smoothly. Except that he can’t really call his barely legal subordinate developing a drinking habit _smooth_.

Lacking words for what feels like the first time in his life, Roy cautiously approaches the young man, already reaching for the bottle. Ed’s is — with all due respect this time — short and half-metal, and that certainly gives him a very low tolerance. When Roy’s fingers curl around the glass, he meets little resistance; the blond lets go of the bottle and his arms fall limply by his sides. He furrows his brows, seeming more confused than frustrated, as if he has no idea why Roy would take his pastime away. Then, lowering his head, he lets out another tired sigh and goes back to his soft humming.

“Fullmetal,” he says, warily, as he puts the bottle on the desk, “May I ask what you think you are doing?”

No answer. The melody is steadily turning louder as he resumes his swaying and closes his eyes once again. Roy grips his shoulder with a bit more strength than necessary — because he is worried, perhaps _scared_ ; Ed is brash, incandescent, nothing like the creature standing next to him.

“Fullm—”

The blond falls on Roy, pressing the side of his face against the man’s chest. Roy lets go of his shoulder as if burned and stands the most still possible, while his heart leaps and his breath hitches. The scene is so surreal he feels dissociative, like an outsider soul that surely does not belong to the body _Edward Elric_ nuzzles against. The boy puts his arms around Roy’s waist, inhaling deeply.

“Edward, are you—”

Amber eyes lazily find him and that’s when Roy sees the change on Ed’s expression. It has softened, all the agony vanished and now his features are relaxed, lips slightly parted and eyelids heavy. His hands move, grazing over Roy’s upper body until they find their place on the sides of the man’s neck — and _the words_ , his best friends, fail him once again. Roy says nothing, which Edward might have taken as permission — meanings _can_ and _will_ come without words, you see — so he stands on his tiptoes and covers Roy’s lips with his own.

And Roy simply, slowly, carefully pushes him away.

And Ed looks deeply, wholly, awfully heartbroken.

He slumps once more against Roy’s chest, fisting the man’s shirt probably in a last attempt to keep him close. Not without the bitter taste of regret on the back of his tongue, Roy stays — he is afraid that if he doesn’t, the boy is going to fall face-first on the floor. He frowns at the thought; Fullmetal has never been one to use crutches.

“You’re such a bad dream.”

That, the first bunch of words Ed has said, makes Roy’s stomach drop. “What are you— I beg your pardon?”

“I said,” the boy mutters, “that you’re a fucking bad dream.”

Over and over again, Roy wonders — because what else can he do? When it comes to Edward Elric, things are unpredictable: a sequence of inconsistencies that never fail to be very logical — if there is anything Roy can do to _not be bad_ , anything that is not _that_. But the only two forms of comfort Ed seems to want from him are the ones that Roy doesn’t really want to provide.

However, Roy is _cheap_ , and as soon as the blond resumes the quiet hums he puts an arm around his shoulder and pulls him closer — and then the other, so he can pet the back of Ed’s head in a mockery of affection. He recognizes the song; it’s slow and pleasant, but not very popular. He’s heard it on the radio before, maybe late at night in a bar too, but never thought much of it. Now, though, it feels like _misery_ , and he’s sure that if he ever happens to listen to it again, it will be ruined by the memory of Edward Elric’s sad, golden eyes. Soon enough, Roy joins him, and they both mutter the same notes.

The boy sways and pulls the other along with him. They don’t really leave the spot where they stand their feet barely moving and perhaps their rhythm doesn’t really match the song’s — a bit too languid, and Roy doesn’t care because Edward doesn’t either. The flesh hand’s hold quivers — _release, grip, release, grip_ — but the expected sob does not come. It isn't the first time Roy has wished for someone to cry in front of him, but he is embarrassed when he realizes that right now he does. An excuse for the clenches of his heart is definitely not worthy of Ed's tears.

When Edward kisses him the second time — pulling him down by the lapels, forceful and aggressive — Roy lets him. _He probably needs it more_ , he thinks, and the words make little sense. Fullmetal tastes like cheap booze and resignation, and he kisses like a drunkard: awkward, wet and with an unnecessary amount of tongue. But even in this current condition, he still has coordination enough to make it not bad. Tolerable, acceptable, _decent_. He bites Roy’s bottom lip and it’s _good_ , even.

It ends lethargically, which only serves to worsen the sinking feeling on the pit of Roy's stomach. Edward, clumsily trying to reach the man’s neck, whines when Roy puts the necessary distance between them.

 _A bad dream,_ Roy supposes.

“I’m taking you to the dorms,” he says, “Did you even tell Alphonse where you were going? He must be worried.”

The blond shrugs. He reaches for the bottle but Roy grabs his wrist, pulling him away just in time. Groaning, Ed stumbles towards the door and Roy tails right behind him — _the keys_ , yes, he’ll surely need them. Throughout the whole way, the raven-haired man is consumed by a strong urge to help Edward, to hold him up until he can throw him into another person’s arms. He refrains, of course, tucks his hands inside his coat’s pockets and does his best to not stare at the one walking beside him.

As the two of them head to the dorms, he expects this nightmare to shift, just like nightmares usually do. Maybe if he takes that turn he’ll be standing on the desert, crumbled buildings under his feet and corpses piling up behind him. He pushes the thought away, reminds himself that _this_ doesn’t even get close to Ishval. But humans suffer from the future as much as they do from the past — and while the weight of war crimes will forever be a constant in his life, Ed just pushed open an unstable path for them. One that Roy is not that excited to take, one that gives him unpleasant shivers and brings imagines to his mind that he really shouldn’t indulge in.

One he could simply never utter a word about, not even to himself — as if _not verbalizing_ could prevent it from _existing_.

By the time they reach the dorms, Ed steps are firmer. The cold night probably sobered him up a bit and, if the lowered head is anything to go by, embarrassment is finally catching up. He stops at the door and turns to the raven-haired man, arms crossed and shoulders slumped. _Fear_ is what Roy reads on his features, but he still raises his chin and looks Roy dead in the eyes before he speaks:

“Listen, this shit was…” he sighs, “if you could—”

“I won’t,” Roy assures, “Whatever it is that you think I’m going to do, I want you to be sure that I would never.”

Edward stares at him, face blank like an empty page, and Roy counts exactly four seconds before he shrugs and goes inside.

And for the first time, Roy is truly scared he picked the wrong words for the right person.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this wasn't that strenuous to read :) _Verbos_ means _words_ in portuguese.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://aluinihi.tumblr.com), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/aluinihi) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/aluinihi) as well! Let's talk :D


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